


Unspoken

by Shadow15



Series: Trials [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, No Sex, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prequel, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-18 18:04:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19339744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadow15/pseuds/Shadow15
Summary: Steve had always heard that coming back from the military is often a nightmare, but he could never have imagined it could be this bad. In between losing his home, dealing with a deathly-ill and traumatised Bucky, and having no easy way to handle everything on top, Steve still has to make choices. None of them are easy choices, though.





	Unspoken

**Author's Note:**

> This is a prequel to a series that has otherwise been completed. There are references to things in those series that the prequel won't cover in-depth, such as what happened to Steve and Bucky in the army, and the tagged Thor/Steve isn't explicit or a huge focus of the prologue; this is really just to explain a lot of the history that the rest of the series didn't/couldn't dive too deeply into.

Steve grimaced as the plane touched down on the tarmac. He looked to his side to see Bucky, slumped heavily against him with his head on Steve’s shoulder; the morphine he had been sent home with was a big dose, and it knocked Bucky out like a dog on elephant tranquilisers.

Steve couldn’t say he minded; it was almost adorable how Bucky was draped around his side like a blanket and was drooling all over him in his sleep.

The plane came to a standstill within a few minutes, and Steve made no attempt to wake Bucky up and get him off the plane; he’d rather wait until everyone else had cleared off, and he could manoeuvre Bucky easier.

The old lady who had had the window seat next to Bucky glared at them as she stood and gathered her bags. Steve tried to give her a smile and show that he didn’t want any conflict, but he didn’t know how anyone would buy his smile when he himself knew how fake it was.

“Let me past,” the old lady spat at them. She’d been eyeing them on and off during the flight, mumbling beneath her breath. Steve wondered if she thought there was something between he and Bucky.

“I’m sorry, let me just –“ Steve leant over Bucky so he could grab his friend’s legs and wrap his arm around his waist to pull him further into his seat. Steve tried so hard to keep his smile up, but he couldn’t help the way his eyes dropped to the ground at the disgusted look the old lady shot him as she hobbled her way past. There were no words to describe just how much it hurt for Steve to pretend he hadn’t felt the way she’d smacked his shin with her walking stick on her way through.

Steve kept his arms around Bucky, hugging him tightly as Bucky slept on, oblivious to the growing disgust surrounding them.

“What, they kick you two out of the military for being fags?”

Steve twitched at the words, but he didn’t look to see who had spoken them. He absentmindedly reached up to touch the right side of his face, still swollen to three times its normal size and almost completely blackened. His lips were still split, and the gashes and missing skin on his face and hands should have told enough as to why he was on the plane in the first place.

Steve didn’t even want to take in Bucky’s appearance or else the anger and guilt would come back and swallow him, and he didn’t want to hurt anyone with the uncontrollable rage the memories always brought back.

The plane emptied quickly. Bucky roused easily enough, but Steve wished he could have let him sleep; Bucky had looked so peaceful in his slumber, but now…

Now, Bucky just looked agonised.

“C’mon…” Steve helped guide one of Bucky’s arms around his shoulder so Steve could help support him as they walked. “I got you, Buck. I got you.”

It didn’t take long for it to become apparent that Bucky couldn’t walk. Well, he could, but it had taken almost twenty minutes for him to have limped out of the plane and only a quarter of the way through the boarding terminal.

“Buck.” Steve’s aching muscles really weren’t feeling up to the challenge, but he could see from just how wet Bucky’s eyes were that Bucky wasn’t up for his own challenge in _any_ way. “I’ll carry you.”

Steve remembered so vividly a time where Bucky’s legs could have been hanging on by just a thread and still he would have scoffed, protested, and said that he was no damsel in distress and he could walk just fine. Bucky would have dragged himself by his hands across hot coal before admitting that he couldn’t walk. But now, Bucky bowed his head submissively and choked on a sob.

Steve kept Bucky’s face firmly against his neck to keep him from seeing the way people stopped and stared at the sight of them, but Steve really couldn’t blame them; two grown men dressed in army uniforms, one man being carried and both of them looking as if they’d had to battle their way out of hell.

In a sense, they really weren’t wrong to think that way.

Steve hailed the first taxi he saw. He ignored the dubious look the taxi driver gave him as he carefully settled Bucky into the backseat, and with a soft murmur of their apartment address, he then held Bucky tightly to his side and kept his eyes closed for the ride.

***

Their apartment complex hadn’t changed much during their absences. There were new cars parked in the lot, familiar vehicles gone, perhaps forever. Steve paid the taxi driver for his troubles before he helped Bucky out and stood him on his feet.

“Look.” Steve did his best to smile again as he pointed out their apartment door, on the left side of third floor balcony where the building looked like a sharp U. “There’s our home. We’ll go inside, have a shower, and I’ll make us a nice hot chocolate and we can just sit and watch TV for the day. Sound good?”

The moan of discomfort Bucky made was the only form of response Steve got. Steve tried not to let it get to him; Bucky hadn’t been himself after what had happened, but Steve could never blame him for it.

“Okay.” Steve took a single step forward to encourage Bucky to follow. “Let’s go.”

Steve had no idea how he’d remained as patient as he had when helping Bucky up the metal staircase; for the amount of time and effort it had taken just to get him up to their floor, Steve was half-tempted to never let Bucky come back down again until his legs and lumbar spine were in better condition.

They found their way to their apartment door. Bucky was vibrating against Steve’s side, probably anticipating the rest and comfort he hadn’t had in so long. Steve’s smile was genuine this time as he patted Bucky’s shoulder and fished his keys from his pocket.

The keys wouldn’t work. No matter how hard Steve tried to jam them into the lock, or how loud he shouted, or how aggressively he kicked at the door, the keys just wouldn’t work. The door remained shut, until it had been yanked open from the inside, and someone was running at them with a baseball bat.

Steve’s mind was already running on overdrive, and after everything that had happened, he was honestly surprised to find that he didn’t attack; when Bucky lunged forward aggressively, Steve pulled Bucky back and crowded him into the safety railing behind them to keep him safe, and the worst Steve did to their attacker was to block the strike of the baseball bat, kick the man’s feet out from beneath him, and tear the weapon from his grip to toss it over the railings and into the courtyard.

“What are you doing in our home?!” Steve roared. He felt Bucky struggling against his back to free himself and attack, so Steve threw his arm out behind him to keep him caged. “That’s _our_ home!”

“Buddy, we’ve lived here for a year – me and my family!” The man snapped back. His eyes were wary as they focused on Bucky, snarling and snapping like a rabid dog. He watched Steve reach out to squeeze Bucky’s thigh in an attempt to comfort him, and his nose upturned into a sneer. “Why are _you_ trying to break into _my_ home?! The police have already been called and will be here shortly!”

“A year…?” All the fight drained out of Steve, as if someone had poked a hole in him somewhere and suctioned it out of him. “But we… We _lived_ there…! We lived there for… for four years…”

“Not anymore, you don’t! Clear out!”

Steve turned to whisper to Bucky. The man couldn’t overhear, but he saw Bucky’s eyes widening in realisation before they filled with tears. Bucky’s whimper was so agonised, part of Steve wished they’d just been killed and never rescued. “What about our stuff…?”

Steve shook his head; he didn’t want Bucky hearing about how it had all most likely been trashed or sold off; they’d each had such precious heirlooms in their possessions, and to think that they were gone…

Steve slowly got to his feet before he pulled Bucky to his own. His eyes closed as he turned to the man and murmured, “We are sorry to have upset you… We won’t come back…”

Steve got Bucky back down the stairs and out to the kerb of the driveway where they just sat and contemplated. Bucky was sobbing softly next to him, Steve rubbing his back to give as much comfort as he could.

Finally, Bucky turned to look at Steve and whisper, “What do we do now…?”

Steve shrugged. He looked up at the dark sky when he heard the thunder roll in, and all he wanted in this moment was to be struck by lightning and die. He stood again and pulled Bucky to his feet. “Find somewhere for you to rest while I try and get us a home, I guess.”

“I don’t want you to leave me, Steve,” Bucky whimpered. A single finger of Bucky’s left hand twitched, but his right arm shot out for him to grasp Steve’s shoulder in desperation. His eyes were wide with fear, and Steve didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around him in a tight embrace.

“Hey, I won’t leave you,” Steve promised. “Never. I’ll come back, Buck, but I need to try and get us a house – I can’t let you live on the streets.”

Bucky was hysterical as Steve all but dragged him through the busy streets, and given their conditions already, Steve grit his teeth and narrowed his eyes at the way everyone stopped and stared like they had grown two heads. He knew they weren’t too far from the local Department of Veterans Affairs, and he also knew that there was a café right next door to it, and maybe if he were lucky, they wouldn’t mind letting Bucky curl up somewhere while Steve could try and get help.

Of course, there were two problems with this plan; one being that Bucky wouldn’t let Steve leave him, and the other being that, even if Bucky _did_ let go of him, there was the entire issue of the café having almost nowhere for Bucky to sit quietly by himself.

But Steve had to do his best; the DVA would be closing soon, and Steve _really_ didn’t want Bucky sleeping on the streets.

“Excuse me?” Steve liked to think of himself as a good judge of character, so as he dragged Bucky over to a lone man at a table in the back, he hoped that at the most, the man would tell them to piss off if he were in a bad mood. “Can my friend share your table for ten minutes? I have to go to the DVA and I –“

The man’s eyes flicked between Steve and Bucky for all of three seconds before he was pulling his newspaper from the table and making room for Bucky. There was a knowing look in his eyes, and the tight way his lips were pulled together made Steve think that he knew something they didn’t. “You guys just got back onto American soil, didn’t you?”

“And it’s been a nightmare ever since.” Steve reached into his pockets, hoping he could scrounge up enough coinage to buy a coffee for Bucky, but having lost his wallet somewhere during his Prisoner of War stint, he didn’t have much hope. “I just… How much is it for a coffee here?”

“Five for a large.” The man’s eyebrow raised when Steve’s hand resurfaced with all but three coins that he dropped onto the table. He frowned as a single tear rolled down Steve’s cheek. “Not enough?”

Steve shook his head. He clawed at his face before wincing at the pain it caused and pulling his hands away. “I’m sorry, I… C-can you please say you were meeting him here so they don’t kick him out? I just… I’ll be ten minutes!”

“Hey, man, I’ll spot him.” The man smiled softly as he reached his hand out to Steve. “Name’s Sam. I know what it’s like; I came back from my own tours in much the same situation. I’ll spot your friend, but you should hurry; I just finished my shift at the DVA and they’re closing real soon.”

Steve scratched at his face again, not knowing what to say. In the confused mess that was his mind, all he could do was shove his pitiful coinage at Sam and flee the scene.

Sam chuckled. He could see Bucky staring after Sam, with tears of his own rolling down his cheeks, but judging from the way he’d been _dragged_ over to Sam, Sam was pretty sure he was in no condition to be chasing after his friend, even if he wanted to. “What kind of coffee you want, big guy?”

But Bucky didn’t respond. He _couldn’t_ respond. It wasn’t that he didn’t _want_ to, but he couldn’t; he hadn’t been able to speak to anyone but Steve after what they’d been through. But Sam didn’t seem to take it to heart; he gave another smile as he stood up and promised he’d be right back.

When Sam returned, Bucky dived on the coffee like it was the first thing he’d been offered to drink in two weeks.

Sam’s eyes wandered over Bucky’s appearance. Short, messy hair that looked to have been shaved in patches. Judging by the stitches he could see where his hair should have been instead, he probably wasn’t wrong. His face looked grimy and bruised, like he’d had his face shoved down into dirt forcibly and rubbed into it for hours. Deep gashes all over his face, one eye swollen shut, burns to most of his face and neck, and skin missing – a lot like his friend he’d arrived with, but these wounds looked worse, more… Like whatever had been done to cause this kind of injury had been done over and over again to him.

Sam was horrified to think of the injuries hidden from his gaze.

“So, what’s your name?” Sam was gentle as he tried to keep up conversation; it was the least he could do if he was going to stare as much as he was. “You probably heard; I’m Sam. Sam Wilson.”

Bucky’s right arm slowly raised, and his hand grasped the dog tags still around his neck nervously. “…”

“Guessin’ you either don’t have a name, or you’re just not in a talkin’ mood since you haven’t told me to shut up yet.” Sam gave a soft chuckle. “But seriously, man. You want some peace, just say the word and I’ll be quiet.”

Bucky’s left arm was in a sling, Sam could see. Because of the long sleeve of his army jacket, Sam couldn’t say for certain if he was wearing a cast or not, but Sam wouldn’t be surprised if he had one. Sam empathised. He truly did.

“I feel ya,” Sam said softly, nodding to Bucky’s body. “I really feel ya. It’s gonna be hard at first… But stick it out, man. You can get through this.”

Bucky couldn’t stop himself from breaking down at those words, and the worst part was, he didn’t even know _why_.

***

When Steve finally finished at the DVA, much later than he had anticipated to, night had fallen, and the rain was coming down hard. Steve’s heart was racing with anxiety at the thought of Bucky, and if he were okay or not.

To find Bucky, standing outside the café he’d been left in, with Sam standing at his side and holding an umbrella over his head…

Well, Steve wasn’t sure he’d ever hated himself as much as he did right now.

“Bucky!” Steve couldn’t keep the tears from his eyes as he sobbed his next words out. “I’m sorry! I tried! I really did! But they can’t do much for us!”

Sam manoeuvred the umbrella so that it was keeping Steve dry, too. “Hey, man. What’s goin’ on? Maybe I can help.”

Steve shook his head. He wiped at his eyes before he whispered, “We lost our apartment while we were overseas, and we… We have nowhere to go…”

“Shit, man, that’s harsh.” Sam didn’t hesitate to reach into his pocket and pull his wallet out. “Here. Take this. Get a motel for the night. If you come back to the DVA tomorrow, I can try and help you guys find somethin’.”

Steve pushed Sam’s hand back to himself. “I can’t take that, Sam… It’ll be okay; we can get by – but thank you!”

“No, really.” Sam pushed the money back towards Steve. “Seriously. I’ve been there, and no one offered to lend me a hand. Just take it, or I’m gonna be up all night worryin’ ‘bout you two catchin’ hypothermia.”

Steve wiped hastily at his eyes as he took the cash. “Thank you, Sam… _Thank you_ …”

“No worries, guys. Just…” Sam grimaced as he reached out to squeeze Steve and Bucky’s shoulders. “Just take care of yourselves. Come to the DVA tomorrow; I can help you two get sorted into my therapy groups – think the big guy’s really gonna need it, Steve…”

Steve would have declined the offer solely because of how proud he was – but Bucky needed the help, and no matter how proud Steve was, he wasn’t going to harm Bucky by denying him _anything_ that could get him through this.

Steve sniffed back his tears as he gave a stiff nod. “Thanks, Sam…”

“By the way… What were your ranks?”

“Ah. Captain.” Steve gave a bitter smile. “Bucky was a sergeant.”

“Nice to meet you, Cap.” Sam shook Steve’s hand before he took Bucky’s. “You too, Sarge. Thank you for your services.”

Steve steeled his emotions and nodded. “What about you?”

Sam gave a sad smile. “That’s somethin’ I like not thinkin’ about – ‘sides; I’m sure I was never _half_ the soldier you both look to be. Massive respect for you both, man.”

Steve wished so badly he could tell the truth to Sam – tell him that Steve was nothing to admire, and if he wanted an idol, Bucky was the man for him. Bucky, who had gone through so much at _their_ hands and only tried to survive, and _Steve_ …

The self-loathing returned, and Steve needed to leave. “I’ll see you around, Sam. Thanks for looking after Buck.”

“No worries, man. Take my umbrella; my car isn’t far from here.”

Steve accepted the kind offer and started walking Bucky away. He counted the notes Sam had given him, knowing that there was a cheap motel a bit out of the way from here, and it was cheap enough that they could buy dinner and still have enough money left over to get out of the rain.

At least, that _was_ the plan, until Steve realised over dinner that Bucky was on his last morphine pill, and his eyes were getting inflamed again from all the dirt and grime that had been in them during their captivity.

Steve hated these choices; choose either a warm bed and shelter from the rain for the night, or let Bucky suffer in agony for who knows how long until Steve could scrape together enough money to refill Bucky’s prescription.

Well, when Steve was holding Bucky tight that night and keeping a piece of cardboard over them in an alleyway that smelled of piss and vomit, Steve couldn’t help but tell himself that it could be worse; at least Bucky’s pain was under control.

That was worth the sleepless night Steve experienced as he watched over Bucky, prepared to do whatever he had to to keep his friend safe.

***

Steve had hoped it would only be a few days before he could get them both back on their feet. Instead, it was almost two months of sleeping under cardboard and stealing whatever crumbs he could to bring back to Bucky.

The medication was the real problem. Bucky’s pain was getting worse, probably exacerbated by the infections setting in all over his body that Steve couldn’t afford a doctor’s visit to treat.

Bucky was so sick, and it was a horrible turn of events from where Bucky had never failed to care for Steve so well back when Steve was a frail, sickly little thing.

It was testimony to how much Steve loved Bucky, and that he would do absolutely anything for him, because Steve had fallen into habit of servicing men in the alleyway, just a few feet from where Bucky lay, sickly, in exchange for morphine and whatever antibiotics they’d had their hands on.

It was after a particularly disgusting man had pulled his arousal from Steve’s mouth and passed over the morphine did Steve realise something was wrong. This man wasn’t familiar to him; clearly told by one or two of the more regular men Steve serviced to come and take.

“He’s cute.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed. He wiped at his mouth and moved to stand before Bucky, pale, sweaty, and gasping for breath as his body trembled violently from fever. “You won’t touch him.”

“Why not? Look at him, sprawled out all ready for me.” The man’s sneer was sickening, and Steve felt his stomach churn more than it already had during their encounter. “I bet he’s got a nice ass – unless he’s only there for you to fuck.”

Steve curled his hand into a fist and stepped forward to strike, but he stopped when the man tutted.

“You want me to get the police onto you?” The man’s lips curled more. “Tell them you’re sucking dick for morphine? Probably a lot more than just that they can bust you for. They’ll probably haul your cute boyfriend’s ass to jail along with you. You know what they’d call him, right? Jailbait. I know _I’d_ fuck him, even if he cried and begged for me to stop.”

Steve almost vomited on the spot. Instead, he grit his teeth and snarled out in resignation, “If I let you fuck me, you’ll leave my friend alone.”

“Sure. I’d rather him, but a fuck is a fuck. Don’t worry, baby; I got some rubber.”

Steve pushed his body weight back against the man when he felt himself being pushed to the wall. “Not in front of my friend. I don’t want him seeing this.”

“Sweetie, you sucked fuckin’ cock like… five feet from his head.” The man rolled his eyes. “He was watching you. I _watched_ him watch you. He’s probably not gonna care too much if you take it up the ass – he’d probably get off on watchin’ it.”

Steve growled. There was no use protesting, though, because the man was right; if Steve pushed his luck, the police probably _would_ be involved, and that was the last thing he needed.

Steve allowed himself to be pressed face-first against the disgusting brick wall. His eyes burned with angry tears as he glared loathingly at the bricks. He didn’t turn to look at Bucky, and once the man was zipping up his pants and leaving, he didn’t make eye contact with Bucky for three days.

They would never speak of this part of their life. It was the unspoken rule that it was to never be brought up under any circumstances.

***

“Poor things…”

Steve looked up at the woman’s voice. He shivered violently with the cold, trying to fight away the freeze the snow brought with it, but it was useless; the long-sleeves and jeans he’d managed to acquire for himself and Bucky on his last shoplifting episode didn’t help much with the cold.

Maybe he was just so cold from the knowledge that he may never be able to pay for the things he’d sworn to himself he’d just borrowed from the store and would eventually pay for.

“Here. I only have one, though.” It was a woman, standing before Steve and Bucky as she had been passing through the park Steve had found refuge in due to the pergola that at least was keeping the snowfall off them. She shrugged her jacket from her body and handed it to Steve before she passed her mug of coffee to him, too. “I’m not far from work, and we have really good heating in there. I think you could use that more than I could.”

Steve didn’t know how to thank the woman. His hands trembled as he resisted the urge to cry, placing the coffee carefully on the bench beside him so he could sit Bucky upright and get the jacket onto his quivering body as best as it would fit. Bucky slumped back against him immediately when Steve’s hands had let go of him, his teeth chattering violently as he hugged himself with the only arm of his that worked.

“Drink up.” Steve grabbed the coffee again and brought it to Bucky’s lips. “It’ll warm you, Buck.”

But Bucky only choked on the liquids and coughed it all back up. Steve suspected it was from just how sick he had gotten from the cold and infections.

***

“You knew my father, don’t you?”

Steve pulled the baseball cap further down to try and hide his face. His shoulders were tight, and he hoped the jacket he had stolen that morning would be enough to conceal his identity adequately. He cleared his throat nervously and tried not to give away the fact that he was standing in the pharmacy with a heap of stolen goods beneath his jacket.

Steve looked anywhere but at the man standing by his side. “Nope. Sorry. Must have the wrong person…”

“I don’t. I’ve seen you with him before.” The man waved his hands around carelessly, and Steve had a feeling the other was _trying_ to agitate him on purpose. “Howard Stark? Big conceited asshole who everyone else loves? Don’t lie to me; I know you knew him. I just wanna know _how_ you knew him.”

Steve froze. Maybe if he gave the man what he wanted to hear, he would be left alone and he could get back to Bucky faster. “I did some volunteer work with him before I joined the army. That’s it. Nothing exciting.”

“Nah, pretty sure it was exciting since my father never stopped talking about you. What was your name? Steward… Stefn…”

“…Steven…” Steve growled. “Look, I’m kind of in a rush here, and I –“

“- In a rush to walk out with an entire jacket full of shit you have no intention of paying for?” The man rolled his eyes. “I find it hard to believe my father would have obsessed over you as much as he had if you’re robbing people left and right.”

“Look, it’s… It’s _complicated,_ okay?” Steve was getting antsy again; Bucky was waiting for him in their usual alley, and if he didn’t get back soon, Bucky was too vulnerable and someone might hurt him. “I’m in a rush, and –“

“- You’re stealing shit for infections, Rogers; let’s cut the bullshit.” The man cocked his eyebrow behind his glasses. “You’ve been caught on camera; you aren’t that smart. I know this isn’t your first shoplifting stint. Cut the bullshit and tell me what’s going on.”

Steve took a deep breath; telling the truth couldn’t be any worse than lying and having security called on him. “My friend was hurt in the army, and when we came back, we were homeless. He’s very sick; he’s been sick for a long time now, and I’m scared that if I don’t… If I don’t get him this stuff, he’ll…”

“You didn’t think of taking him to a hospital? Jesus, Rogers.”

Steve shook his head. “Homeless. No money. No income. Nothing.”

“You didn’t apply for veterans payments? And here I was led to believe you were intelligent. Give me that shit; I’m gonna pay for it, and you’re going to take me to your friend before he dies. I have a doctor friend.”

“I can’t –“

“- You can and you will. Now chop fuckin’ chop; move your ass.”

***

Steve didn’t know how he’d ended up in a stranger’s car with Bucky in his lap, doing one-hundred-ten along windy cliff roads to god knows where, but at the end of the day, anywhere was better than their cardboard home.

The man he had ran into was named Tony, Steve found out. He was loud, arrogant, but his heart seemed to be in the right place; he’d taken one look at Bucky, sprawled face-down on his cardboard bed, and demanded Steve get him into the car while he made a few phone calls.

Bucky’s breathing was shallow, and that was what terrified Steve the most.

“How far away are we?” Steve tightened his hold on Bucky, hoping he could hold on.

“Not far now. Why did you let him get into this state, Rogers?” Tony glanced at Bucky quickly before he looked back to the road. “Surely you could have called someone…”

“We have no family. All our family is dead.”

“No friends?”

“Just one, but he’s new,” Steve murmured. He shook his head and looked back down at Bucky. “I couldn’t burden him with this; he barely knows us…”

“ _I_ barely know you and yet here I am.” Tony shrugged. “The guy’d probably prefer to let you sleep on his couch than know you’re out in alleyways dying.”

Steve sighed. He stopped talking, saying nothing until Tony had driven them to a cliffside mansion and then ushered them inside of it. He carried Bucky through the vast corridors and into what looked to be a spare bedroom, with a magnificent view of the ocean that Steve couldn’t take any time to admire as he laid Bucky down.

“My friends will be here any minute,” Tony promised. Sure enough, just after he’d finished speaking, his butler led two men into the room, one of them toting a paramedic bag. “Nice. Right. Banner and Barton, get to work.”

Steve stayed out of the way and watched closely how the two newcomers checked Bucky over and then begun treating him. Steve watched the way one of them – the bigger, rougher looking man who was surprisingly tender with every touch – washed away the gunk and infection that had kept Bucky’s eyelids sealed closed for three days. The smaller of the two, the nervous looking one, was cleaning dirt out of the gunshot wounds to Bucky’s torso and disinfecting the shoulder Bucky had been wounded in. The numerous gunshot wounds were also infected,  but the shoulder had grown into infection so severe, Steve felt sick looking at it.

The shoulder was leaking pus and fluid, and the smell it carried was gut-churning, but Steve had been around it too long to be bothered by it now.

The other two men were, apparently. The bigger man turned to Steve and grimaced. “How could you let it get so bad? He’s going to lose his arm! This is gangrene!”

From where Tony had been sitting nearby, he finally spoke up. “You think I should call in Strange, Barton? Let him handle this?”

“Better chance than anything we could do for him here,” the small, nervous fellow uttered. “The infection’s traveling, Tony; this is going to be some serious work to keep this guy alive.”

Steve didn’t even care _how_ Tony knew all these contacts, because all that mattered was that, hours later, a third man showed up, armed to the teeth in surgical apparatus.

“We need a clean, sterile environment,” the newcomer was saying to Tony.

Tony nodded. “There’s a room in the lab. Let’s get him down there.”

Steve felt so fucking _helpless_ as he watched them operate on Bucky, for so long, it was morning by the time they’d finished, and the newcomer had taken him aside.

“We’ve saved his arm, but what the _hell_ were you thinking not taking him for treatment?” The man’s eyes were narrowed, and Steve felt like crying. “You don’t understand just how closely we came to having to amputate the entire limb. We saved it, but the work we had to do on it… Never expect him to get much use out of it. _Never_ let something get that bad again because next time, he won’t be so lucky.”

Steve nodded, it being all he could do. He was ecstatic to hear that Bucky was going to be okay, but he wouldn’t even remember the neurosurgeon’s name who had saved him; nothing mattered in that moment except for Bucky.

***

Tony took Steve aside four weeks later, once Bucky was showing signs of recovery.

“Rogers, I’ve got you set up.” Tony was jiggling something in his palm, but Steve was too confused by those words to think much on it. “A semi-nice apartment in Brooklyn. I had to pull some strings, but I got an application approved. You can move in at the end of the week.”

“What are you talking about?” Steve was shaking now, whether from anger or fear, he couldn’t decipher. “How could you do this to me when I don’t even have a _job_?! You’re just going to get us kicked out again!”

“You have a job – if you want it.” Tony rolled his eyes. “You want to be a paper-pusher for a while? See what you can do further down the line?”

“Tony, I –“

Tony shoved a set of keys into Steve’s palm before he handed him a folder full of paperwork. “Just sign on the dotted lines and you can start as soon as I say you can. But not when you’re getting around looking like a Neanderthal who lost his cave. Here. Go buy yourself nice work clothes, and get that beard sorted out; facial hair is okay, but clearly no one’s allowed to rock it better than I do. Got it?”

Steve’s jaw dropped at the envelope Tony slapped into his palm. He frowned as he counted the notes. “Tony… I’m not going to spend one-thousand dollars on clothing and a shave! I don’t need this much!”

Tony shrugged. “Well, you have it, and I’m not taking it off you. Might as well get yourself prepared for a new home while you have it. Get a TV or something organised for the big guy.”

“No, I… I know what I can do with it,” Steve murmured.

Sure enough, an hour later, Steve found himself back in town, paying for every item he had stolen.

***

The nightmares never stopped. Not even in the comfort of their own apartment. The nightmares came for them both, but who woke up screaming at night depended on who was reliving their captivity more vividly. Sometimes Steve woke up first. Sometimes Bucky. Regardless of who, it always ended in angry yells and bangs on the walls from their neighbours.

It really wasn’t surprising that it hadn’t taken long for them to be kicked out – and the holes in the walls Steve had added in over time definitely hadn’t helped much in trying to find another home. At least it was easier this time with a job behind him and veteran payments to both he and Bucky that made their applications look much better.

***

Steve and Tony quickly became good friends. Bucky didn’t really click with Tony. In fact, Tony seemed to make him nervous. Sam had turned out to be an amazing friend to Bucky, though, and the only person aside from Steve he would let into their shared bedroom to visit him.

Strangely, Sam and Bucky had become so close, Sam loved nothing more than “Bucky-sitting”, as Sam called it; coming over to look after Bucky while Steve went out and spent time with his friends.

It was probably a good thing Sam loved spending time with Bucky; Steve had yet to tell Sam that Bucky had begun self-harming, but he was hoping that Sam would know how to help once he knew.

It was through Tony that Steve met Thor. Loud, arrogant Thor who gave Tony a run for his money.

They hated each other. At least, Steve thought Thor hated him. Probably did, because Steve didn’t try and hide just how much he disliked the other man’s presence.

That changed with time, and Thor quietening down and being more respectful of Steve. Maybe it was how attractive Thor was to Steve, or maybe the softer disposition Thor used with him, because it didn’t take long for Steve to start crushing on him.

Steve made his move one stormy night, when it was too wet outside and Steve didn’t feel comfortable navigating the nasty bends in the road on his bike. “Thor, do you think you could give me a lift home?”

“Oh, you will not ride home?” Thor cocked his head to the side. “What about your bike?”

“I can catch a taxi to work in the morning, and I’ll just get Tony to bring me home with him.” Steve offered a smile.

“Then I see no flaw in this plan.” Thor smiled back. “I hope you do not mind, though; I have not been driving for long, and my brother says I am slower than a grandmother on her Sunday morning drive.”

Steve laughed. Genuine, hearty laughter. “If you’d like, I don’t mind driving. I mean… I have a bike now, but, uh… My friend, Bucky, he used to do work on cars, and he made sure that I knew how to drive. …But really, even though he said it was so he felt comfortable knowing I was safe when I was out, I’m pretty sure he only taught me so I could drive him around everywhere.”

Thor returned the laughter. They had left Tony’s mansion now, braving the heavy downfall to get to Thor’s BMW. He passed the keys to Steve and quickly ducked into the passenger seat. He waited patiently as Steve put the keys into the ignition and tried to start the car, but the engine would cut off mid-turn before it ever roared to life.

Thor laughed again and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Sorry, sorry! It was my mother’s car! It does this sometimes, but it always starts eventually!”

Steve chuckled. He was pleased when the car finally started. “Not to undermine the value of sentiment or anything, but don’t you think it’s time for a new car?”

“Maybe, but… I don’t really know that much about cars anyway. Sometimes this car makes a funny noise, so I lift the hood and the engine is always still in there and the noise goes away eventually so I am sure it is just fine.”

Steve snorted. “Bucky would smack you if he heard that. He’d be mortified.”

Thor was smiling again. “Do you think he would mind to see why the engine does not always start?”

“Oh, uh…” Steve frowned, not sure how to explain the situation. “…Bucky… cannot see people at the moment. He’s… He’s dealing with a lot of stuff that happened when we were in the army. He gets very upset around people; it’s just me and our friend, Sam, that he can be around, or he’s too unsettled. When we were staying with Tony, Jarvis came into our room one morning to bring him his breakfast and Bucky… Well, he freaked out and tore the room apart.”

“Oh, I am sorry, Steven… I hope he gets better.”

Steve nodded. Trying to cheer the mood back up, he said, “But I can always ask him and see what he thinks. He might even know a good mechanic he can recommend.”

“That would be great if you could, Steven; I would really appreciate it.”

There was small chitchat between them as they navigated the windy road, plenty of laughter and smiles, and slowly, Steve felt comfortable enough to ask, “So, umm… Sorry if this offends or anything, but… I’ve heard Tony say that you like men, too…?”

“Oh, yes.” Thor’s smile was as gentle as it always was. “I do not go for one gender exclusively; I am sure I could be very happy to settle with a man or a woman as long as I love them.”

“Well…” Steve tried not to think about the alleyway blowjobs he’d given that he would _never_ tell Thor about and instead think of anything else, “…I think that I… may not like women. I’ve never dated to know for sure, but there’s never really been a woman to catch my eye. It always seems to be the men I notice.”

“You are curious is what you are trying to say,” Thor murmured kindly.

“I think so. I notice appearances and personality a lot, but I never really seem to notice women as much as I do… others. Like my friend, Bucky. I’m too scared to ever tell him this, but I always thought he was the most beautiful person I know. He’s _gorgeous,_ Thor. Inside and out. And our friend, Sam; he is the sweetest guy, and I think he is very handsome, too. But see, these are the things I really only notice about men… Am I… Am I _weird_ …?”

Thor chuckled. “You are _not_. If you are curious, by all means, find yourself a nice man to explore with. The worst that can happen is that you figure out you are not really into men after all.”

“What if… What if I already know a man I’d like to ask out on a date…?”

“Then ask him.” Thor’s eyes glinted happily. “Ask him out. If you think he will take it well and will not be disgusted in you, it will not hurt. I have had men _and_ women reject me.”

“Oh, really? No way, Thor; you’re so handsome.” Steve felt his cheeks flush.

Thor waved a dismissive hand. “Not terribly. Though I would love to be able to see how I compete with your Bucky and Samuel and where I would rank with these two.”

“Hey, Sam’s amazing, but I think I have to demote Buck to third place because he is always such a brat. He hid the remote from me last night so I couldn’t turn off his soap operas. And between you and Sam, I gotta say… Well, I dunno, honestly; I think you are both very attractive, and I…”

Thor cocked his head curiously as Steve trailed off. “Yes?”

“…I was just wondering… if you’d like to… uh… _fondue…_?”

Thor’s lips curled upwards as he held back a cackle of laughter. “I have to say yes for such a unique way of asking me out on a date.”

Steve let out a sigh of relief. His shoulders relaxed, and he couldn’t help but murmur, “I’ll need to see if I can organise for Sam to come around and keep Buck company – or if Sam won’t mind letting him come back to his place. But… maybe tomorrow night? At my apartment?”

“Tomorrow night would be lovely, Steven. But if Bucky does not want me there?”

“Then we go out and find fondue and when I go home I tell Bucky that he missed out on some good fondue for being a brat.”

Thor threw his head back with laughter. “Is _that_ what the kids are calling it these days?”

“Hey, you’re younger than me! Bold of you to assume you can get me into your bed that easily!”

Thor’s laugher calmed. “I would never try, Steven; I would never want to hurt you.”

“Good, because I probably wouldn’t like you as much as I do if you did,” Steve teased.

Thor chuckled. With that out of the way, they continued talking, just getting to know each other.

***

“Hey, Buck…?”

Bucky slowly rolled over so he could peer at the bedroom doorway and see what Steve wanted. He grimaced as he fought against the tears the pain in his shoulder threatened to spill. “Stevie…”

Steve frowned. He didn’t hesitate to enter the room and move to Bucky’s side of the bed so he could take the bottle of therapeutic oil from the bedside table and pull Bucky’s shirt off. “I got you, Buck. I got you.”

Bucky sat, slumped upright as Steve’s slender fingers rubbed into his sore shoulder with expertise he could only have gotten from doing this so often. He sniffed back tears of pain and shame as he murmured, “What did you want, Stevie…?”

“Just…” Steve focused on a particularly tight knot around Bucky’s shoulder blade as he thought about his own words. “…Well… I’m… I’m going to be moving out…”

Bucky froze at those words. A single full-body shudder was all he gave before he burst into tears and started begging Steve to stay. “Stevie, I’m sorry! I’m sorry! It’s because I’m such a burden, isn’t it?! Please don’t leave me, Steve! I don’t wanna be alone! I’m so scared on my own!”

“Hey, hey, shh… Shh…” Steve pulled Bucky into a tight hug. “Shh… I know, I know… I love you, Bucky, but… I want to be with my boyfriend, too. We’re going to buy a home together.”

“I want to live with you, Stevie! Please, let me live with you! Please, I’ll live in the attic if I have to and never come out!” Bucky was in hysterics as he rocked back and forth. “If you’re not here, then they’re going to come and get me and make me do it all over again and I don’t want to, Stevie – I _can’t_! Please! Don’t let them get me! Don’t let them get me!”

“Hey, hey, none of that is going to happen,” Steve promised firmly. He pulled away so he could say, “Wait here; I’m going to be right back, okay? I have something to show you.”

Bucky was still crying and mumbling to himself as he rocked in Steve’s absence. When Steve returned with a box in his arms, Bucky eyed it warily, and when it was placed in his lap, he looked up at Steve for reassurance. He reached out with his shaking right hand – his left was still useless; Sam had promised to hook him up with his physiotherapist friend as soon as he could – and carefully opened the box.

A single meow was what had Bucky’s tears stopping completely. Bucky’s breath caught in his throat as he reached out and scooped the snow-white kitten into the palm of his hand and brought it to rest against his chest. His eyes closed, and he looked more relaxed than Steve had seen him in a long time.

“There you go, Buck.” Steve’s fingers played with the growing hair at Bucky’s nape. “I knew you wouldn’t want to be alone, so I thought ahead. Just because I won’t be around as much doesn’t mean you’re going to be alone, Buck. Sam and I are still going to come and visit you – I just… I won’t be living here. But while Thor is at work, I’ll still try and spend as much time with you as I can until you’re comfortable with me being gone for a while. Okay?”

Bucky nodded. His eyes opened to look down at his kitten again, his expression twisting into one of disbelief and confusion and _love_ as he dropped his head to kiss the kitten’s forehead. He didn’t know how to reply to Steve’s words, so he rocked himself a little and said the first thing that came to his mind. “You look hot with a beard.”

Steve snorted. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been telling you that you have foot-in-mouth syndrome? I’m starting to give up on you; you’re forever going to be like this, aren’t you?”

Bucky couldn’t help but smile as he rested his nose in the kitten’s fluffy fur. His eyes were still watery, but the storm seemed to have vanished from him – a good thing, Steve knew; if the kitten could continue being such a strong soothing point for Bucky, he might actually be okay on his own for a while.

But then, the uncertainty crossed Bucky’s face again. “Stevie…? How will I… pay the rent…? What if I can’t pay it on my own? What if I have… What if I have to suck dick to pay it, Stevie…?”

“Don’t be silly; I’m still going to pay it for you,” Steve promised. “I don’t want you feeling that kind of pressure; you always handled our rent for us and I’m not going to jump ship on you _now,_ Buck. You just focus on getting better. …And _maybe_ think about watching something _other_ than soap operas all day every day; why do you have such bad taste in TV?”

“Says you, Mr. Reality TV Guy.” Bucky was smiling again. “Stevie…? Just… Can you call me? Every night. Just to… just to talk to me.”

Steve knew what the unspoken question really was; _can you call me and make sure I’m okay and still doing alright._ “Of course, Buck. And you call me whenever you need me; I’ll come back even if it’s four am and I have work.”

Bucky let out a relieved sigh. “I love you, you little punk.”

Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky’s shoulders and hugged him tight. “And I love you, too, even if you _are_ a jerk sometimes.”

“Only when you deserve it.”

“Uh-huh. You’re not just a jerk for the fun of it.”

“Only when I’m bored.”

“Uh-huh. I believe you, Buck.”

“You should.”

“I really don’t.”

“Punk.”

“Jerk.”

 

 

 

 


End file.
